*I'm back! Mwahahahahahah! Didya miss me? Didya? Didya?! Neways, sorry for having been gone for so long, it's the whole back to school crap and everything, and I spent the better half of last week being a. hopelessly lost around the bigass campus, and b. slaving over all the homework assignments and annoying projects that all the Evil Dictators--um, I mean, my professors--seemed to think would be so ingenious to dump onto their poor students before the first week of school is over! Bleh! But anyway, I'm back now, and we'll begin the celebration by putting the Toxic Twins through the Date From Hell (cue evil cackles here) followed by some ice cream cake or sumthin'! ^_^


Chapter Eight: Terror Twins For The Toxic Twins


Jennifer casually brushed away a strand of honey-colored hair as she played around with the white telephone cord, listening to the woman chatter away on the other end of the line. She sighed, before saying in an obviously forced polite voice, "Well, you see, the reason I wasn't in the "Panama" video was because I'm the manager. Usually, when a band releases a music video, said music video will feature only the band members. It had nothing to do with whether or not I'd gained too much weight to look cute enough on camera--which I hadn't!" A pause, as the caller presumably said something else, before Jennifer impatiently blew away a piece of hair that had fallen into her sky-blue eyes and added, "Well, you see, the busty "fangirls" trying to give the band members lap dances were actually strippers that our producer Roxy Oyama hired for eye candy, so it really wouldn't have been appropriate for me to have had my breasts popping out of a tiny little hot pink tube top while I tried to hump the lead singer." Another pause, before Jennifer cut into the caller's tirade to point out, "Yes, I realize that it would have gotten my face on camera, but that is just a very inappropriate way for me to--" The caller cut her off in order to chastise her some more for not having weaseled her way into the "Panama" music video, while Jennifer shrugged and nodded, mumbling a half-hearted, "Uh huh," every now and then. Finally, the caller switched to another subject, and Jennifer's eyebrows nearly flew off her forehead when she got the news. A look of dismay crept into her eyes, as she protested, "My sisters? Here? Tomorrow? But Mum--" While Jennifer rattled on, Pietro's eyebrows raised in amusement at something the distraught manager had said that he'd apparently found funny, and the silver-haired rhythm guitarist leaned over to share his little joke with Lance. The older, dark-haired half of the Toxic Twins promptly shook his head in amusement, his upper lip twisting up in a smug little sneer as he took a sip of beer while the very all-American Jennifer finished her conversation with her "Mum". As soon as the brunette manager had hung up, having been suckered into letting her two sisters drop by for a visit later on that week, Lance and Pietro gave each other knowing smirks, attracting said manager's attentions. Jennifer turned around, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to look first at Lance, then at Pietro.
"All right, what is it?" she demanded crossly. "What's so funny now?"
Lance and Pietro exchanged amused little sneers, before Pietro snickered in a nasal, snobbish, and very badly-imitated British accent, "Aye, look 'ere matey, it seems as if darling Jennifer's a good ole English lass." Jennifer frowned, as Pietro and Lance exchanged high fives, before muttering tight-lipped, "My mother insists that I call her "Mum"; she says it makes her feel classier and more sophisticated than all her old high school white trailer trash best friends from Jebediah County, Arkansas."
"Whatever you say, luv," Lance snickered, in an equally hideous British accent. Jennifer frowned again, tucking a strand of chestnut-brown hair behind her ear as she began, "Speaking of no-good white trailer trash Southerners...my, uh, two sisters have decided to drop by for an impromptu visit tomorrow."
"Hey, cool, genuine, real-life hillbillies!" Morgan squealed excitedly, while Rikki snorted rudely, "Hn. You don't look like a toothless redneck to me; who'd have thought you came from a trailer park?"
"My sisters are not hillbillies, they speak perfectly fine English, with no hick accents or whatever," Jennifer spoke up hastily, then added while darting Rikki a dirty look, "And the Falls family is not a clan of inter-breeding rednecks, or hillbillies, or hicks, or trailer trash, or whatever; my Mum just happens to have been raised in Jebediah County, Arkansas, that's all!"
"Hey, that's okay, I believe you," Jericho spoke up pleasantly. "I mean, my dad was raised in the South himself, so I tend to get that kind of stereotype flak from some people when they hear where my parents come from." Jennifer turned to him gratefully.
"Really? That's so nice to know that someone else understands where you're coming from," she acknowledged thankfully. Jericho nodded enthusiastically, to the point where he appeared to be headbanging.
"Yup," he said wisely. "Say, is Southern California anywhere near Jebediah County? I mean, since the stereotypes that I got was dumb blonde surfer dude and not toothless redneck, I figured we might come from different parts of Arkansas!"
"D'oah!"


Meanwhile, cue over to a nice, neat ranch-style house in the suburbs outside of New York City, where two teenage girls where busy sitting in front of a huge mirror, rigorously applying makeup. The taller one, Jennifer's fraternal twin sister and a busty brunette with cat-like green eyes and a flawless complexion, was chattering, "Ugh, I really hope there are some cute guys in the city. All the boys here are just so...blah!" Nineteen-year-old Jamie Falls critically examined her dyed sun-gold hair (which she had bleached to quote, look hotter), before leaning forward to the mirror to put in her brown contact lenses (again, to "look hotter") and reassuring her sister, "Don't worry, Cali, I'm sure they're good-looking. Remember what Jenny told us: a six-foot-five blonde, a moody model front man, and two sweetheart guitarists. How can you go wrong with a bunch of like that?" Cali arched her eyebrows.
"Huh, sexy rock stars, really?" A bird-that-ate-the-canary grin suddenly appeared on her features. "In that case, I better pack my extra low-cut red minidress...but only because it's my favorite first-date dress, that's all, and not because I want to skank around and catch the attentions of hot guys, or anything," she added quickly. Jamie had paused, hot pink lipstick aimed halfway at her mouth, as her sister's words sank you.
"You've got a point; I'd better pack my extra low-rise strategically ripped pink leather pants," she said thoughtfully. "But only because they're my favorite pair of pants, and not because I want to, um...what's that word that I can't pronounce again? Oh, yeah, and not because I want to, um, seduct some cute guy or anything!"
"Jamie, that's not seduct," Cali clucked, shaking her head. "The word you want is to reduce a cute guy!" Jamie shrugged.
"Yeah, whatever," she mumbled. "But like you said, only because my extra low-rise strategically ripped pink leather pants are, like, my favorite pair of pants, and not because I want to, erm, show off my assets. That would be like, so totally...what's that word again, that I can't pronounce? Oh, yeah, um, that would be, like, so totally biodegradable to women!"
"Jamie, it's not biodegradable," Cali chided smartly. "It's dehydrating!" Jamie swatted her hands carelessly back and forth, as she reached into her jam-packed closet to retrieve her special T-shirt, the one with the signatures of all the cute guys she'd ever stalked and had never washed since entering the eighth grade.
"Oh, whatever, you smarty-pants," she scoffed.


Jennifer switched off her cell phone, looking worried. Since Roxy was busy out peddling Lance and Pietro's magazine centerfold--um, I mean, magazine cover--and Jennifer herself would be busy the next day going to meetings all day with record label execs, she would need to leave someone responsible and logical to take care of her sisters when they arrived on the three o' clock train the next day. But who...? She frowned. Cali and Jamie Falls had made it clear over the cell phone that they wanted two, like, totally hot guys (like, duh!), meaning Mini-Me Morgan was out of the question, which was probably a relief in itself. That left either Bachelor Number One, Rikki Stixx with his Aqua Net hairspray and asshole attitude, Bachelor Number Two, Jericho Locklea as the charming, handsome blonde with less brain cells than probably even Jamie (which was a scary thought in itself!), and, of course, Bachelors Numbers Three and Four, Lance Alvers and Pietro Maximoff, a.k.a. the sweetheart guitarists when sober, a.k.a. the obnoxious Toxic Twins when not so, um, sober. Jennifer sighed, tiredly running a hand through her chestnut-brown hair. Between Rikki, who'd probably get annoyed with her sisters five minutes into the date and dump them in some dark alley to go bar-hopping and groupie-smooching alone, and Jericho, who would probably get lost five minutes into the "date" and end up taking her sisters on a hitchhiking "adventure" to some place like Guadalajara, it appeared as if the Toxic Twins were the safest alternatives. What could be the worst thing that would happen? So they'd get drunk and act like a couple of silly, obnoxious little assclowns. That was still far better than a. Rikki ditching her sisters at the skid row district or b. Jericho getting hopelessly lost and somehow wind up taking her sisters to Mexico. Besides, her two bimbo sisters would probably think the whole Toxic Twin routine was, "like, totally hot", and anyway, Lance and Pietro still needed some sort of punishment for their full-frontal magazine cover. A sly, evil smile graced Jennifer's face, as she turned to the living room and called out in a sing-song voice, "Oh, Lance, Pietro...you'll never guess what I've got planned for you two!"


Pietro gingerly peeled off his waist some fat, unwashed, dirty-blonde hillbilly who'd latched herself onto him, before turning to Lance and whining, "How did we get suckered into picking up the Falls sisters at the train station, anyway? The only people arriving are toothless rednecks who seem to think that I look just like their brother, and thus ought to get hitched off right away and breed our youngins in Dumpwater, Wisconsin!" Lance, meanwhile, busy fighting off a herd of blonde, braided, bucktoothed triplets in matching pink dresses and tattered old straw hats, grunted, "Look, how should I know how the hell we ever got suckered into taking out a pair of giggly airheads, except that Roxy's bossy bitchy attitude seems to have rubbed off on Geri-Ann!" Pietro scowled, finally rid of the toothless fat dirty-blonde, before correcting, "Well then, if that's the case, then Jericho's clueless airhead attitude seems to have rubbed off on you, cause her name is Jennifer."
"Whatever!" Lance snapped grumpily, still trying desperately to avoid being humped and pinched by the triple threat blondes from Dumpwater, Wisconsin.

At that moment, the three o' clock train arrived, whistling and screeching to a hasty stop. The doors were slammed wide open, and passengers began shoving and fighting each other to be the first ones to get out, in typical New York City fashion. Lance and Pietro, still busy trying to shake off the cargo of rednecks from the two-fifteen Wisconsin train, didn't notice the pair of non-hillbillies until the two girls were practically standing right in front of them. The shorter one, a skinny little bottled blonde, peered into Pietro's face and stared wide-eyed, until her brown-tinted contacts nearly fell out, before shrieking happily, "So, like, are you one of those two cute sweetheart guitarists that Jennifer said would be taking us out on dates?!" Pietro gave a startled little squawk, and promptly fell backwards, landing right into the arms of the waiting fat dirty-blonde who was waiting to haul him off to raise their youngins in Dumpwater, Wisconsin. Upon quickly untangling himself from the toothless redneck, he mumbled, "Uh...you two must be Jennifer's sisters." By then, Lance had also finally disentangled himself from the triple threat from Dumpwater, as the slender blonde chirped happily, "That's right! My name's Jamaica Victoria Priscilla La Toya Bobbie-Jean Rochelle Marianna Susanna Falls--but you can call me Jamie." Just then, the other half of the Falls sisters, a green-eyed brunette with her ample breasts nearly popping right out of the low-cut red minidress she was wearing, proceeded to introduce herself.
"And my name is California Summer Tallahassee Sunshine Daydream Dawn-Marie Catalina Chae-An Falls--but feel free to call me Cali," the busty brunette added. And then, in unison, the two sisters held out their arms to be linked, and chirped as one, "Shall we go?" Lance tee heed nervously, before excusing himself and Pietro, "Eh heh...one moment, please?" And he quickly pulled the startled silver-haired rhythm guitarist well out of earshot of the two Falls sisters.
"All right," Lance hissed, "what do we do?" Pietro, meanwhile, was studying the two girls critically through narrowed ice-blue eyes.
"Well," he finally spoke, "I'll go with the California girl, and you can take the chick named after Elvis's wife."
"No, not that--Hey! Wait a minute, why do I have to take the blonde bimbo?" Lance protested. "If anybody should take the skinny little bottled blonde, it's you. After all, in case you haven't noticed, the lesser of the two evils--California What'sHerFace--is a good couple of inches taller than you!"
"Fine, fine, whatever!" Pietro snapped grouchily. "Let's just get this dating crap over with so that we can go join Rikki and Jericho at the Girls! Girls! Girls! bar and start ordering margaritas with Roxy's platinum card!"
"All right, then." Lance cleared his throat and straightened out the black dress jacket Jennifer had forced him to wear, before preparing to go off to battle--um, that is, take out Jennifer's so very lovely sisters.

Jamie and Cali, who had both crowded in front of a broken mirror and were adjusting their tops while Lance and Pietro were trying to think up the best strategy for speedy dating, quickly whirled around as one to face their dates for the evening.
"So...shall we go?" Cali giggled, pouting her full red lips seductively. Lance linked arms with his "date", and glared over at Pietro to mimic his action.
"Sure, why not, your sister gave us two hundred bucks to spend on this date, so we might as well hurry up and max out her credit card before nightfall," Lance muttered. Pietro, busy batting away Jamie's hands as she giggled and pulled on his precious silver locks and wondered out loud what kind of bleach he used, harrumphed, "All right, so...where do you lovely ladies want to go first?" Cali peered her cat-like green eyes upwards to bat her eyelashes sultrily, before giving a silvery laugh as she suggested, "Oh, well, since we are in the big city and all...how about taking us to the finest restaurant in town?" Lance lit up, thankful that they were wandering into familiar territory.
"In that case, follow us!" He shot a mischievous wink to Pietro, who caught on and added enthusiastically, "Yeah, we know a place where you can get the best food and entertainment, all in one sitting!"


"Uh..." Cali paused to stare wide-eyed at all the Hooters girls bouncing around, carrying trays of cheeseburgers and chocolate shakes. "This wasn't exactly what we had in mind when we said finest restaurant in town."
"Yeah," Jamie chirped from where she was, staring intently into a mirror as she applied a fresh coat of peach lipstick onto her old hot pink layer. "We were thinking of something more like, you know, C.C.'s Fish Tacos & Margaritas." Cali nodded wisely.
"Mmm hmm," she agreed, as Pietro shrugged and scratched his head.
"Well gee, if you wanted tacos and margaritas, you should have just said so," he mumbled, at the same time that Lance spoke up breezily, "Oh, if you want fish, I'm sure you can get it here. I mean, is there anything that Hooters doesn't serve?"
"Well," Cali muttered, emerald green eyes flashing as she glared at one of the busty Hooters girls "entertaining" a patron, "even if seafood isn't on their menu, it's pretty obvious that a lap dance is!" Uh oh, Lance thought frantically, she's gonna pick a catfight with that hooter! Better do something--fast! Turning around so fast he nearly slipped on the tiled floor, Lance took a deep breath and prepared to unleash his secret weapon.
"Aw, c'mon love," he pouted, flashing her his most winning boyish smile. "Won't you please put up with this for an hour or so? We'll make it up to you later on in the date...promise." He could already see she was softening.
"All right, fine," Cali finally conceded reluctantly. "We'll eat at Hooters--if you promise to take us out to a really sophisticated and glamorous spot after this."
"That's the spirit, Carrie," Lance said encouragingly. Cali flashed him a venomous glare.
"My name's Cali," she hissed. She then frowned. "Well, actually, its California Summer Tallahassee Sunshine Daydream Jamaica--oh, no wait, that's Jamie's name! Great, now I've got start all over again! Ahem. My name is California Summer Tallahassee Sunshine Daydream...um, oh, yeah! Dawn-Marie, and then there's a Catalina, and a Chae An..." Lance was already long gone as Cali stood there rattling off her many names, having skipped off to flirt with a sultry Hooters girl with wavy dark chestnut hair and an exotic Spanish señorita appeal.

Cali finally seemed to have taken notice that her cute sweetheart rock guitarist beau had long since lost interest in her, and huffed, stalking over to Lance and his exotic señorita and hauling him off by the ear.
"Owieowieowie!" Lance whined, as Cali dragged him toward the narrow booth that Pietro and Jamie were already squeezed into. As Lance grudgingly sat down across from the two beside Cali, Pietro leaned over the table confidentially and whispered, "Is she friendly?" wagging his head to the Spanish señorita in the exotic red dress. Lance shot him a mischievous wink.
"Very," he confided with a laugh. Jamie turned to face Pietro, a hurt expression on her face.
"Hey! I heard that!" she pouted, before suddenly winding up and smacking him across the mouth.
"Ouchy!" Pietro's hand flew up to his sore red slap mark, before he turned to Jamie, eyes flashing, and whined, "What did you do that for?" Jamie shrugged in reply.
"I don't know," she admitted dumbly. "I just always wanted to do that, and you're the first guy who's gotten close enough for me to try it. Although honestly, I don't really know why all the hot guys seem to think I'm this scary chick or whatever! I mean, I've got really hot blonde hair and brown eyes! I'm a hottie! It says so on my shirt here, see? So honestly, I don't know what is it about me, maybe my perfume's, like, a guy repellent or whatever, and if that's the case, then for a cologne called Black Rose, it's got a very misleading title, and I would totally want my money back...!"
"Uh oh...traces of Morgan here," Pietro muttered in dismay. Lance, meanwhile, was staring wide-eyed at the rambling Jamie, going on about her hot-ness, before turning apprehensively to his own date.
"Um...so, Kelly...that's a really pretty name you've got there," he began tentatively. Cali turned to him, arms crossed over her ample breasts and frown etched into her face.
"Huh, my name's Cali, not Kelly!" she huffed. "Kelly's such a dumb blonde name, like that chick from Married...With Children. Hey, did you know I can sing the whole theme song to Married...With Children? It goes like this, 'kay: Ahem. Ahem. Ahem! All right! Love and marriage, love and marriage/Go together like a horse and carriage/This, I tell you brother/You can't have one without the, other/Love and marriage, love and marriage..."
"Eh heh..." Lance not-so-discreetly inched away from the singing Cali. Plastering a great big phony smile on his face, he choked out squeakily, "Scuse us for a sec, okay?" And before either Cali, who had now moved on to the Brady Bunch theme, and Jamie, who was scrunching up her nose as she tried to remember that word she couldn't pronounce, could reply, he had already pulled the dumbfounded Pietro out of their booth and into the men's room.

"What are we going to do?!" Pietro hissed frantically as soon as they were inside. Lance tiredly ran a hand through his longish dark hair, heaving a pathetic sigh.
"I don't know," he mumbled dully. "Here, let's just, switch dates or whatever. I'm used to hyper schoolgirls discussing their looks...Kitty does that sometimes, especially right after she's gotten a new pair of shoes, which is about once every other week!"
"Fine then, so you take the Tahiti or Jamaica or Bahamas or whatever island chick, and I'll go with the California girl," Pietro mumbled.
"It's not California, it's Wisconsin!" Lance corrected him. Pietro glared.
"No, no, you must be thinking of the triplets from Dumpwater back at the train station," he retorted. Lance scowled.
"How can you remember all her names, anyway?" he grumbled. Pietro shrugged, before admitting, "I have the David Lee Roth CD, okay?"
"Whatever," Lance huffed as he headed for the door. "Let's just get this over with."

When the two returned to their table, they found Cali frowning in concentration as she adjusted the top half of her extra low-cut red minidress, while Jamie fumbled around with a tattered old pink babydoll tee covered with horrible scrawlings in the worst chicken-scratch handwriting either of them had ever seen. Lance discreetly slid in beside Jamie, who didn't seem to notice that her date for the afternoon had suddenly been switched around, while Pietro sat down next to Cali, who, unfortunately, wasn't quite dumb enough and actually did notice the not-so-discreet little swap. As Jamie happily snuggled up to her new beau and started pestering him to sign her hot guys autograph T-shirt, Cali narrowed her vivid green eyes suspiciously, before gritting out, "Hey--what's going on here?" Pietro was left to handle her wrath, seeing how Lance was preoccupied with signing Jamie's unwashed autograph shirt with one hand and discreetly covering his nose with the other. He took a deep breath, before batting his eyes innocently and pouting, "What do you mean? Is anything wrong? Do you need me to get you some more iced tea?" Cali snorted impatiently.
"No," she hissed. "I mean how come Lancie-poo's now snuggling up with my slutty bottled blonde sister?" Jamie snapped up from where she was gushing over Lance's scrawled signature.
"Hey," she huffed. "You're talking about me, aren't ya?" Cali rolled her eyes.
"No, I meant Jennifer," she snapped sarcastically. Jamie brightened up.
"Oh, okay then," she chirped brightly, and went back to squealing over how, like, totally hot Lance was like the good little giggly airhead that she was. Cali sneered condescendingly, before focusing her attention again on Pietro and beginning to say, "So, what's with the switch, anyway? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not dumb enough to not realize that the two of you don't really look all that alike, and...Hey! Where did he go?" Cali's head whipped back and forth as she frantically scanned the Hooters for her missing beau...before promptly finding Pietro leaning against the glass bar counter, flirting with Lance's very friendly Spanish señorita. Cali bristled, as she stalked over to Pietro and dragged him back to their booth by the ear.
"Owowowowow!" the highly unfortunate silver-haired youth whined, as his brunette date seethed, "Oh, please, I can't believe how shallow you are to have fallen for that trashy slut with the one hundred percent silicone 36DDs popping out of her stupid little red dress." Just then, Jamie suddenly thought of something, as she popped into their conversation to whine, "Hey...I just realized something! You couldn't have been talking about Jenny with that blonde slut remark, because she isn't a blonde!" Cali and Pietro just ignored her, as Pietro surprisingly agreed with Cali's comments about the Spanish señorita.
"I know," he snorted. "She really needs to get some reconstructive surgery for that botched up boob job of hers. Those babies look more even faker than Britney Spears'." Cali blinked in surprise.
"You mean that?" she cooed. Pietro, meanwhile, was nodding.
"And that hair job, ew!" he shuddered, like the male equivalent of some snotty high school cheerleader type. "I mean, can those red roots be any more obvious? Honestly, I don't know what Lance saw in her. And that whole fake orange tan is so ridiculously, pathetically obvious, I'd almost feel sorry for her if she wasn't such a total loser." Cali, meanwhile, was staring dreamy-eyed at Pietro. I'm in love! her inner self gushed. Finally, I've met a guy just as snobby and spoiled as I am! Pietro, meanwhile, was glancing nervously at the dreamy-eyed Cali, ogling him with a funny expression on her face.
"Um...Cali?" he muttered nervously, to which he got no response. "Why...why are you staring at me like that?" He then suddenly remembered some chick flick that Jennifer had suckered him into watching with her, and realized to his horror that he recognized the look on Cali's face as one that equaled that of the giggly airhead that the movie called its heroine when she fell in love with some fruity Enrique Iglesias lookalike type, complete with the bigass mole and everything. Oh, no! his mind screamed in horror. This isn't just some silly little crush, she's actually in love with me--although, who could blame her? I mean, I'm so perfect, and gorgeous, and charming, and magnetic, and smart, and witty, and I just adore my dimples when I smile...a satisfied little smirk drifted onto Pietro's face as he rattled off his perfect qualities, while Cali continued to gawk at him with that stupid lovesick expression on her face and Jamie and Lance carried on their fascinating discussion about how blondes looked, like, hotter than brunettes--just take a look at Pamela Anderson versus Yasmine Bleeth, for example. Pietro, after having finally listed off his perfect qualities, right down to his perfect cute nose, was suddenly snapped back into reality as he caught Cali gawking at him like some pathetic lovesick little schoolgirl. Uh oh, now she's gonna want for us to hitch off and go raise our youngins in Dumpwater, Wisconsin, as well! This is just great, I'll never be rid of her! he groaned inwardly. A lightbulb went off in his head, as he suddenly thought of something. Unless...


Lance and Pietro wearily mounted the steps leading up to their apartment, thankful to have finally gotten rid of the two Falls sisters, who had been hauled safely onto the eight o' clock train heading back to the suburbs.
"I can't believe you got the two girls mad at us so easily that they dumped us in one hour flat," Lance ooh-ed admiringly. "How did you do it? I mean, I know that Toad's a natural woman repellent, but one never would have guessed that you had that talent as well." Pietro frowned, scrunching up his perfect nose.
"Eh, I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult," he muttered. Lance laughed breezily as he opened the door to Apartment No. 666.
"Consider that as a little bit of both," he said lightly, as he stepped inside, and was promptly greeted by a furious Jennifer, still rubbing her sore ear from where Cali and Jamie had shrieked and sobbed their laments over the date via cell phone.
"All right," she lectured sternly, hands on her hips, "which one of you two told my sisters that you were gay?!"


*Wondering what Roxy's been up to throughought this whole chapter? (besides being in talks with Playgirl over the magazine cover, I mean! x_x) I'll reveal that in the next chapter. No hints till then, 'cept that you better be prepared for some good old fashioned wacky plots to take over the world.